With a long sigh, I motioned for him to speak.
“So, is that a no on performing during the upcoming road trip?”
A growl rumbled in my chest. My words came slow, deliberate, cutting through the tension.
“Fuck. Off.”
Chaos erupted among the mostly male members of the press, and before I could process it, a firm grip on my arm yanked me from the room. Out in the hall, Sullivan Cassidy turned me to face him. As our goaltending coach, he didn’t wield much real authority. His brother, the team captain, was the reason the press wouldn’t stop hounding us about the dancing after a hockey game.
I braced for a lecture. Maybe even a yell. But I should’ve known better. That wasn’t Sullivan. His concerned gaze hit me like a wave of guilt, making me feel small, pathetic—as if I’d just completely screwed up.
A sigh escaped my lips. “I know. That wasn’t cool. I’ll apologize.”
He smiled, but it was more rueful than reassuring. “Definitely don’t do that. I’m actually looking forward to tomorrow’s headlines.”
“Ah, yes. ‘The bitch coach of the Guardians has lost her mind.’”
“Finally, someone to keep hockey players in line.”
“‘Bossy babe flips her lid in interview.’”
His grin spread wider. “I quite like that one.” He jerked his head down the hall. “Meeting in Griff’s office in five.”
I fell into step beside him, realizing for the hundredth time how we were the same height. Sullivan and his new wife, Sam, were the only people I trusted completely in the city. They were the only ones who knew about Travis, knew what he meant to me. Last Thanksgiving, when Travis uninvited me from his family dinner after a fight, it was Sullivan who dragged me to his place instead.
Sullivan bumped my shoulder, bringing me back to the present. “You okay?”
No. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
He was quiet for a moment and hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you this…”
“What?” I placed a hand on his arm to stop him, my pulse quickening.
He scratched his face, the features that mirrored his brother’s softened by concern. They were alike in so many ways, but Sullivan smiled more. That was for sure. “Travis texted me last night.”
My eyebrows shot up, a rush of emotion flooding through me that I couldn’t fully hide. “And?”
“He was looking for a place to crash for a few nights.”
I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling, the fluorescent lights above blinding for a moment before I looked away, hoping to suppress the frustration bubbling up. “He refuses to stay in hotels. Something about a show he watched where they used a blacklight on a five-star hotel room.”
I started walking again, trying to drown out the noise of reporters exiting the room behind us.
Sullivan waited a beat before asking, his voice careful, “And he needed a room because…”
When I didn’t answer right away, he shot me a knowing glance.
“What did he do?”
Shame flooded through me, heavy and suffocating. The worst part wasn’t that we’d ended—though, it had taken me until now to realize that. It washowit ended. He’d slept with someone I had trusted, someone I’d chosen to believe was just a friend. How foolish I’d been. Not good enough. Too trusting. It had been so long since I’d had someone I loved in my life that I ignored every sign telling me it was the wrong kind of love.
We reached Griff’s office, and I stopped at the open door, my hand resting on the frame. “Nothing. I’m fine, Sullie. Really.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I didn’t get the chance to respond before Griff and Remy stood at the front of the desk, their stances almost identical: feet wide, arms crossed, disappointment etched in every line of their older faces.
I braced myself, expecting the criticism to come. After all, I’d just told a room full of reporters to fuck off.
